"Shall I offer another in turn, or do you want to do something else, O Educated One?"

A cheerful smile lit up the Greek’s face. “If you still can come up with a new riddle, O Barbarian”, he replied politely. “It’s been so long that I played riddles, I’d almost forgotten what fun it is! What’s our score so far?” Eirik chuckled. “We both had four misses, so we’re at level. You’re pretty good for a civilised scroll user.” “And you’re pretty good for an illiterate barbarian”, Philandros teased back, and both grinned good-humouredly at each other. “Let me see …” Eirik scratched his head while he thought of a new one, tougher than the riddles before – they had been too easy by far.

Philandros felt much better than he’d even dared to hope only a few hours ago. The initial pain had subsided to a dull throbbing with which he could deal, and though he still felt weak and drained, he knew his spirit was back. In a way, he mused while he watched the Northerner brood, he even felt better than he had during the last days. Did it make such a difference that he’d parted with Sextus, this time apparently for good? Despite the fact that he laid almost helpless on the bed he felt more lively and invigorated than he’d thought possible under the given circumstances. Could a clear decision really have such effects, he wondered and took a deep breath. Eirik glanced at him. “I’m feeling fine”, the Greek smiled, and realised he meant it. The Northerner smiled in return. “Do you want me to fetch anything for you? Are you hungry, thirsty perhaps?” The green eyes sparkled. “Just a new riddle, if you please.” Eirik smiled wryly and muttered something about “impatient young Greeks” before he resumed to his brooding.

Just as Eirik was about to speak he became aware that Philandros made a funny face and furtively shifted his sound leg. When he saw Eirik looking at him, the young man blushed slightly and stopped moving. The Northerner raised an eyebrow, but since Philandros remained silent, he just cleared his throat and posed the new riddle.

“I was the first one to see the light.
My flight ended the eternal night.
Though I obtained it by means of deceit and thievery,
grateful and pleased many humans still think of me.”

Their eyes met; the expression on Philandros’ face was deliberately blank and yet distracted as if he’d only listened for politeness’ sake while his mind was utterly distracted. “Is something wrong?” Eirik enquired with a puzzled frown. “What? Oh, no,” Philandros hurried to say, looking decidedly uncomfortable while the undamaged leg started to twitch slightly. “Do you need to use the chamber pot?” With this the Northerner rose to call for one of the twins.

“No”, the Greek said through clenched teeth. “It’s just … ah, my leg is itching like crazy and I cannot scratch!” He shot a reproachful look at his splinted arm. Eirik chuckled. “If that’s all”, he smiled and lifted the blanket, exposing the offending limb, “Where does it itch? Here?” “No”, Philandros grumbled with glowing cheeks. “Higher. Much higher.” “Oh”, the Northerner laughed softly, finally realising his friend’s calamity. “Don’t fret, I won’t look.” Philandros shot him a foul look that dissolved, as Eirik finally found the spot in question, into a heartfelt moan of pleasure. “Yes, that’s it! Oh, don’t stop!”

At exactly that moment the door opened – and closed again immediately along with hastily offered apologies. Philandros and Eirik froze and stared first at the door, then at each other before they cracked up, a wry smile and a giggle at first that soon turned into overwhelming laughter and made their eyes water.